


3. Catharsis

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [3]
Category: Actor RPF, Banshee RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF, Vampire Diaries RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 02:30:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4546740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Citadel, Antony Starr is an AU (alternate universe) character. He tells people he's an IT Risk Management and Computer Security Consultant but really he's a master thief hired by collectors and other ruthless people to steal for them: art, jewels, money, information. Citadel knows Antony's true occupation and he's been warned to leave the organization and its membership alone. Anything Antony does will only affect outside interests.</p><p>In this log, Antony meets up again with Ian Somerhalder (who's become involved with Joseph Gordon Levitt). His story eventually becomes entwined with that of Stephen Amell which is why the storyline is named after them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	3. Catharsis

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Please be aware that this log does not follow SSC or RACK principles. As well, although both pups are members of Citadel, the actions contained herein do not take place on Citadel property and are neither condoned nor endorsed by said organization. Also warning for con non-con, fisting and drug use.

_Bastard, fuck, fuck!_ Ian curses to himself as he burns his hand on the pan, he's been increasingly edgy for days, and he knows it's a sure sign he needs some pain to get his head straight, to bleed out the tension that has him in knots. This time though the cause of the tension is different, this time it's not his grief, his own internal anger or his self loathing...no, this time it's another man, this one's living and breathing and getting under his _fucking_ skin. 

Joe. 

Fuck. 

He hooks his phone out of his pocket, scrolls down one or two names until he gets to the one he wants, the one he _needs_.

Antony. 

_It's Ian. I need to see you. Can you make time asap?_ It's not like he usually plays so...needy, but damn!

Antony's only just returned stateside when he hears from Ian. Jarred from his sleep, his fucking phone skittering across the night table, he slaps a hand around until he gets a hold of it and drags it in close to his face, yawning as he reads the message. He thumps his head back onto the pillow and slowly thumbs a response.

_ Sure. When? _

_I'm free all night, day off tomorrow, so can take some extras._ Ian's wrapping a band aid over the small burn blister. The irony's not lost on him. 

Antony pushes up, turning to sit against the headboard, the light beside the bed flicked on. He checks the time and yawns again, shrugging out his shoulders as he gauges what kind of shape he's in to be doing this. _Can meet you at 8. Gym or elsewhere?_

 _Gym's good. 8's cool. Want me to bring anything?_ Ian's not so much feeling excitement at the prospect of seeing Antony again, as he is relief, relief that he'll get this crap out of his system and buy himself a few more weeks of 'normal'. 

_What did you have in mind?_ Antony types out, rolling off the bed and heading for the bathroom, his cock already hardening in anticipation. Christ.

 _For the scene? You know my limits. All else on the table._ Ian's not sure what he wants, just that Antony is the man to give him what he needs. 

Antony turns on the shower, running it nice and hot. _No. You asked if you could bring anything? Was wondering what you in mind._

Ian considers that for a moment. Then goes with his gut. _Something. A thank you._

That takes Antony aback and he stares at the phone for a minute, the water drumming on the tile behind him. _Just kidding. You don't owe me anything. See you at 8._

Despite Antony's reply, when Ian appears at the gym, five minutes early, he has something in his bag. Something besides his change of clothes and selection of pharmaceuticals. He's got enough coke to keep him buzzed all night and some GHB, he's not decided which he'd prefer to party on, yet. And of course he has his pain medication, the one thing he's sure he'll be needing later. He knocks on the door and waits. 

Antony answers the door wearing a tight blue-gray t-shirt and black jeans and boots. "Hey. Good to see you," he murmurs, smiling and slinging an arm around Ian's neck for a quick hug. "How've you been keeping?" He motions for Ian to head on in, locking up behind them.

Ian returns the hug with a quick squeeze, before stepping inside. "Busy," Ian says, he's not sure how much he wants to share of himself with Antony, but he still adds. "I've met someone," he shrugs. "What about you? Been traveling again?"

Antony nods. "Just got back last night," he says. "This morning, really." He glances over his shoulder as he leads the way back into the main gym. "Someone serious?"

"I don't do serious, I've seen him more than twice, that's practically a relationship to me," Ian drawls, eyes darting around the room, remembering the last time he was here. 

Antony laughs. "This is our third time," he points out, teasing, unable to resist. "We must be going steady."

Ian snorts, and rolls his eyes. "Practically picking out china patterns," he snarks back with a wink. "Bit different, he's a bottom," Ian sets his bag down, and drops onto his haunches to dig inside it, and when he straightens he has a bottle of 18 year old Laphroaig in his hand. "So you could consider this a lover's gift," his mouth curves up at the corner, "Or a thank you. I noticed you were drinking scotch that night at the bar," he holds out the bottle. 

Fuck. Antony's eyes widen and he takes the bottle from Ian with a low whistle. He'd meant it when he said Ian didn't owe him a thing but hell, like he's going to turn this down. "Nice. Thank you." He reads over the label before carefully setting it aside, high on a ledge where it won't be anywhere near the destruction. "So you said you've got tomorrow off. Does that change things any? Or are you pretty much looking for the same thing as last time?"

Pleased at the reaction to his gift, Ian spreads his hands, palm up. "What would you like? An extra day means I can take a little more, especially in the ass, and...I've not picked my party drug of choice yet, that'll depend on what you want to do. So long as you hurt me, really fucking hurt me...I'm good."

"You ever take a baseball bat?" Antony asks, stripping off his t-shirt and reaching for the roll of the tape.

Ian's head tips when Antony pulls off his tee, revealing some nasty ass bruising down one side. He quirks a brow, and despite the urge to reach out and trace the purple marks with his fingers, he considers Antony's question. 

"I've been beaten with one, then fucked with it, more than once, yeah," Ian nods, though the last time wasn't an entirely enjoyable experience, he'd ended up actually considering professional medical help that time. "That what you want?"

"Maybe. I want to know what my options are," Antony says, slowly and methodically wrapping his hands. "Pipe? Chain? Wide end of a beer bottle?"

Ian watches Antony's hands as he wraps them, the instruments of his pain and his pleasure. "Yes, yes and no thanks," he replies softly. "Not glass...been there, wasn't pleasant," is all he offers. 

"Okay. You just looking to be hurt or do you need to fight me tonight? Not that you can't fight me some anyway..." Antony says with a smile, his eyes dancing, the tape set aside.

"No need to fight, though I might struggle," Ian drops down again, this time onto his butt. "Let me just take something to get me in the mood, then we can kick off..." Ian roots in his bag, his choice made. He pulls out a small bottle of OJ and a vial, he tips the vial into the juice before putting the lid back on and giving it a good shake. 

"What's that?" Antony asks, pulling a sheet off the things he laid out earlier, all lined up along the edge of the ring. There's lube and condoms, a nice length of chain, a piece of pipe, and of course there's the baseball bat. There's also six-pack of beer but hey, he pretty much knew that was a long shot.

Glancing up, Ian snorts when he sees what Antony has already prepared. "You knew exactly what you wanted," he accuses, amused. "And the beer?" He waves the bottle of juice he's holding at Antony. "Won't mix with this, don't let me drink." He unscrews the lid and downs the contents, and only when that's done does he answer Antony's query. "GHB, straight E makes me sick as fuck." He rolls up onto his feet. "I'll be a little blissed out, then spacey for a while, but I'll be coherent enough to fully participate." 

Antony grits his teeth for a moment. It's one thing to have Ian fucked up on coke and seeing him able to handle it. It's another thing to have him fucked up on GBH and maybe aspirating on his own puke in the middle of the night. "If you're on that," he says. "You've got two choices for when we're done. You either let me take you home and stay with you, I'll leave first thing in the morning. Or you come home with me and I'll take you home first thing in the morning. You choose."

Ian glances up from where he's tossing the bottle back in his bag. His jaw ticks for a moment. "That's not part of the deal," he says his tone cold. 

"Neither was that," Antony says, nodding at the bag. "I'll sleep in a chair beside the bed, make sure you're okay through the night, but it's up to you. Don't like it? You know where the door is."

One brow quirked high, Ian's smile curves up into a mocking smile. "But coke is okay? I'll remember that for next time." 

"This is okay too," Antony says with a shrug. "But anything where you might pass out and choke on your own puke in the middle of the night is going to have me wanting to make sure you're okay after." A small smirk creasing his lips as he adds, "And in case you think I'm going all soft on you, that's more for my benefit than yours. I don't want to be the guy who left all the fucking marks on you when the police find your body."

At that Ian blinks, his face an utter mask. Moments later he barks out a laugh. "Fair enough, your place it is then, you can drop me home after you've cooked me breakfast," he retorts, and it sounds like a challenge. Like he expects that kind of intimacy to be as challenging, difficult, for Antony as it is for him. 

Antony chuckles, wrapped hands on his hips. "Deal," he says, then crooks a finger at Ian, beckoning him closer, away from his bag and more into open space.

"I'm vegan by the way..." Ian throws out, not being _entirely_ honest, "So you better have soy milk in..." he steps up to Antony, and he notes with surprised interest that butterflies have set up shop in his belly. Odd. 

"I'll get some," Antony promises, eyes dancing, raising a hand to touch Ian's face, palm to his cheek, resting there for a moment before he gives him a gentle slap. "One of these days. When you're off. Don't you forget."

"Don't worry, it has your name on it," Ian assures Antony, his dick kicking up at the idea of Antony smacking him in the face, of him splitting his lip. _Fuck yes..._ "When I'm on hiatus," he promises. 

"So you said you don't need to fight," Antony murmurs, his plans slowly growing, changing. "Does that mean I can string you up and beat the hell out of you?" 

A moment's consideration, a weighing up of where his head's at. "Yeah...yeah you can," Ian nods, and now he can start to feel the warm buzz of the GHB as it kicks in, making him feel a little more...on heat than he was even five minutes ago. 

"Good. Give me your hands," Antony orders, picking the tape back up. "Lace your fingers together."

Holding out his hands, Ian weaves his fingers together and tips his head over to one side to consider Antony. "Have you watched any of my show yet?" he asks curiously, his brain wandering off tangent. 

"Not an actual episode," Antony admits, taping Ian's wrists together. "I watched a couple clips on YouTube. One where you told this girl she had no self-esteem at all and you knew what would cure that then snapped her neck." He smiles. "You did a very sexy dance before that."

Ian snorts. "I'm fucking epic in that role, Damon is such a badass, I love him." Ian looks down at his wrists, and then at himself, and it occurs to him he's still clothed.

Huh.

Whatever. 

"Do you often pick actors up in bars to fuck them?" Another question from the left field. 

If only Ian knew. "When I get a chance, yes," Antony answers, grinning. "Although I don't watch TV so usually I don't know who's who until they tell me or I look them up." He sets the tape back down and then tugs Ian by his wrists over to the one of the higher hanging punching bags.

"Ooooh, you're one of those secret stalker types that bangs stars huh?" Ian's eyes are darkening as his pupils blow wide and he's getting looser and more 'tipsy' as each moment passes. "Though I doubt that many want what I want huh? That would just be freaking weird if they did..." he rambles happily as Antony pulls at him moving him to a punch bag of all things. 

"You'd be surprised," Antony murmurs, letting go of Ian to lift the bag from its hook and set it on the floor, pushing it out of the way. "Give me your hands." Raising them above Ian's head, the tape between them hung over the metal hook, raising Ian slightly off his heels.

"What was that?" Ian missed the first thing Antony said, but is distracted moments later when he's hauled up. "Oh...oh okay..this is good," he twists. "You're so fucking cool, and this place is epic...I really love how much of a sadistic fuck you are, you know that? Some guys are like...real psychos...but you're different...you don't have that blank thing going on in the back of your eyes you know?"

Ramble, ramble, ramble...

Antony does know. There's a whole element he works with who are like that. "I take it you remembered not to wear anything you care about." He grins and pulls one of his tactical knives from his back pocket. Four inch blade, hard black sheath.

Ian's eyes go impossibly wide, and his mouth forms a 'O'. It takes a moment to for his brain to catch up. "Um, oh...no, no it's okay..." he nods, gaze firmly on that blade. It's also brought to his attention, rather uncomfortably, that his dick? Hard as fucking steel. 

"You're not exactly in any position to say it isn't, are you?" Antony murmurs, grabbing the neck of Ian's t-shirt in his fist and slicing the band before tearing the fabric open with both hands, leaving it hanging, his chest exposed.

This? This kind of...'I'm-in-a-place-no-one-knows-where-with-a-sadist-who-has-a-knife' kind of powerlessness has Ian's brain firing and his body in an highly aroused state. Aroused, not just with lust, or the anticipation of pleasure, but that heightened state brought about by adrenaline and fear. 

Hell to the fucking YES!

He licks over his lips, his eyes firmly fixed on Antony's expression. A small part of his brain teasing him with the idea that maybe, just maybe Antony might turn out to be one of those psychos after all...and that he might just...

"What are you going to do to me?" And yes, there's a hint, the merest trace, of real fear in Ian's voice. 

"Hurt you," Antony says simply, tugging the snap open on Ian's jeans. "In a whole bunch of different ways."

Ian blinks. "I know that..." he swallows and glances down at where Antony is unbuttoning his jeans, his cock is already pressing against the fabric, looking for freedom from its confines, seeking further stimulation. "Will I bleed?" 

"Probably," Antony answers casually, pulling out Ian's cock and giving it a couple of rough strokes before slapping it, hard, with the flat palm of his hand.

"Ouch!" Ian sounds indignant at the smack and he jerks away, brow creased. "My fucking dick man..." he rumbles. The chains he's attached to rattle and he glances up, distracted for a moment. 

"What? You don't like that kind of pain?" Antony laughs and does it again. Strokes Ian's cock until he's as hard as he can possibly be then slaps it.

Dancing away once more Ian pouts, "My dick...s'my fucking party piece man...don't break it or no one will want to play with me anymore." Even so, his cock, swollen already, twitches at the look on Antony's face. 

A smile threatening to curve his lips, Antony grabs Ian's jaw, pushing his head up and back. "Are you kidding me? As long as you've got that cunt of yours, that fucking hole that will take _anything_ , no one's gonna want to stop playing with you." Two more quick slaps to the other man's cock before he lets go and moves around him, knife at the ready once more.

Reeling at the words Ian groans, licks over his bottom lip. Antony's words are right on the fucking mark, and they push Ian into the kind of head space he needs to do this kind of hard core shit. 

Gripping the back of Ian's waistband, Antony cuts through the denim, along the edge of the band to the side seams and then down both sides to just below Ian's ass, the piece dropping to expose his cheeks, his hole.

The sound of fabric ripping pulls a noise from Ian, and he becomes aware of how he's holding himself still, torn between the fear of Antony cutting him, and the _need_ for Antony to cut him. Later, Ian will wonder how it is that this man's gotten in his head quite so completely as to be pushing his buttons so hard. But right now? It's all he can do to drink in each perfect moment of this edge of fear that he's riding. 

Antony gives the back of Ian's t-shirt the same treatment as the front, tearing it open until the fabric is just hanging from his shoulders. He resheaths the knife, trusting Ian's fear to be great enough to hide that fact when he draws the very tip along one asscheek. "You're going to be a good boy for me, aren't you? You're gonna take everything I give you and beg for more," he says, his voice deceptively soft, the fingers of his free hand probing between Ian's cheeks, pushing three fingers roughly into his already-prepped hole. _Smart boy._

Ian's head is buzzing with adrenaline, making him edgy, his eyes wide, darting here and there to try and track each of Antony's movements, it's a sign of how hyped he is that he lets the use of 'boy' slide at this point. Moments later he's yelling out his indignation at the almost brutal penetration of his ass. "Fuck! FUCKING FUCK!" 

"You think that hurts, bitch?" Antony says, pushing in deeper, harder. "Just wait until I get my whole fist in there, or that chain over there. Maybe that pipe. Or the baseball bat?" He leans in, lips pressed to the side of Ian's throat for a moment, smirking against his skin. "I'll give you a choice. I won't use one of them. You decide which." 

"So...fucking....generous," Ian hisses out between breaths, his body already blooming with sweat, "Shall we start with your fist?" he challenges, and he grits his teeth and tries to force himself down onto Antony's fingers some more. The GHB has kicked in fully now, and that, combined with the endorphins and adrenaline have Ian ramped up and ready to play - hard. 

Antony smirks full-on now, pulling out, the knife shoved into his back pocket. He considers unwrapping his hand but to hell with it. Simply grabs a bottle of thicker lube from the ring and slicks up his whole fist, tape and all.

Ian's right brow quirks up as he watches Antony, it's a show, and it's supposed to be...but fuck. Fuck! Ian's had all kinds of things shoved in his ass, but this...this is different and he can't pin down why. 

"Might as well do up to your elbow," he drawls, spinning on his chain, his feet shuffling to accommodate the movement. "...lover..." he adds with a twisted smile. 

"Lover?" Antony smiles, lubing up the rest of his arm. "You think because you've been my fucktoy twice, because I drove you home the last time, because I told you I'd take you home tonight, you think that makes us lovers? You let me fuck you in a fucking alley. You let me beat the shit out of you. You begged me to hurt you." Moving back in close, his eyes locked on Ian's. "You don't even know me. You don't have a fucking clue how dangerous I really am." And of course the reality is, he's far more dangerous than Ian could ever imagine. But this, this is play.

Ian's played with enough sadistic fuckers in his time he can usually spot the genuine psychos, and he's met a few, played with a couple too, before he learnt to not dance quite _that_ close to the edge. But Antony....he can't tell. When they'd first fucked he'd liked how rough Antony had been, and even that second time when he had indeed let Antony beat the fuck out of him, he'd still judged him to be one of the 'good' guys, knowing how close to take it to the line before pulling back... but this...

Ian goes still, that kind of stillness that precedes flight, or fight. His eyes don't leave Antony's, as he desperately tries to find some tell to make a judgement on whether this, being here like this, is one of the most stupid things he's ever done. 

"Just...just don't fucking break me...please?" He offers hoarsely, his body vibrating with the tension brought about by fear and arousal. _Don't fucking kill me..._

Antony holds Ian's gaze for a long moment, giving no sign how the words, the plea, affect him. Then he nods. "We'll see." Moving back around the other man, his fingers back between his cheeks, probing just as roughly as before.

Understandably, Ian's tightened up, his body chemistry far more interested in providing him with the wherewithal to run or to fight, rather than to fuck. Even so, he takes some deep breathes, using the techniques learnt in the endless hours of yoga he does to relax. Ian wills his ass to cooperate as he plays Antony's words over in his head. 

"That's it, bitch. Let me in," Antony demands, twisting his fingers, three and then four, deeper, knuckles grazing Ian's hole.

"M'not your bitch," Ian grinds out before he can think better of it, the sensation of his hole being stretched distracting him from that underlying fear that's been freaking him out for the last few minutes. 

Antony grabs Ian by the front of the throat, forcing his head back, his fingers deep inside him. Careful not to leave marks, not to seriously hurt him. "Actually you are," he growls, mouth at his ear. "Right now, you're fucking anything I say you are."

Ian whimpers. He actually fucking whimpers. His eyes close for a moment then he sucks in a shuddery breath. "Okay...okay...bitch, I'm...I'm your bitch," he grinds out. 

"That's more like it," Antony says with a smile, dropping his hand from Ian's throat, his thumb tucked in against his other palm as he works to stretch Ian open, careful to avoid being gentle without _really_ hurting him. Always mindful of the damage he _could_ do.

The next few minutes find Ian mewling in discomfort as Antony's hand works its way deeper into his asshole. Whilst it's not the first time he's taken a hand without a glove, it's the first time he's taken one wrapped in tape and fuck, fuck it hurts. Shuffling on his tiptoes Ian tries for some mindful breathing to help ground him, but to no avail, the GHB, the fear, the endorphin's have his brain so fucked up he can't think coherently at all.

"That's it. Let me in," Antony murmurs. "You know I'm not gonna stop so you'd better just let me in." A rough groan spilling from his lips as Ian's body opens suddenly, sucking his hand in and clamping back down around his wrist.

When Ian's body suddenly opens up the feeling of being so fucking _full_ is so overwhelming that for a moment he panics, jerking against Antony, making the chain rattle and clatter. Wordless noises spill from his mouth and he tries to twist around to see the man tormenting him.

Antony wraps an arm around Ian's waist, holding him close as he pushes deeper, fingers forming a fist, fucking slowly back and forth. "You were made for this, weren't you?" he murmurs, eyes locked on Ian's as he invades his body, takes possession.

Glassy eyed, Ian simply nods, his body is wracked with shivers, sweat beads over his skin and he moans at each inward thrust of Antony's hand in his ass. "Don'...don' break me..." he slurs, the fear from earlier hasn't totally abated. "Please don'..."

"Shhh..." Antony whispers, pulling back right to the base of his palm before pushing in again. And again. The path getting easier with each and every thrust.

The fight's gone out of Ian, he's merely Antony's play thing now, spaced out and obedient. His head lolls and he licks over his lips, eyes not leaving Antony's face when the other man is in his sight line. His body shudders with each thrust, opening wider each time to take more...and more.

His hand narrowed to a cone, Antony goes deeper, half his forearm buried inside the other man. "That's it. You're nothing but my puppet, my whole fucking arm up your cunt," he whispers.

"'m nothing...jus' a hole..." Ian slurs out, even now he's trying to push down, take more. And it feels like Antony is consuming him, from the inside. 

Slowly crouching behind Ian, Antony pushes his arm still deeper, his movements even slower now. Intent on seeing if Ian can take his elbow before pulling back.

The pressure, the intensity is building to a point that Ian is struggling to deal with, his breathing comes in little pants, and his eyes start to roll as he works up to forming the word "Stop." It's slurred and barely coherent.

"You think you get to tell me what to do?" Antony growls, but he pulls back, slowly out, anyway. "What did we say? Didn't we agree you were nothing but a hole for me to use?"

Ian struggles to pull his head up to try and _think_. "Yes...but.." he stutters out before he runs out of words, out of any way of communicating his fear. 

The soiled tape pulled from his hand, Antony wipes the rest of the lube on his jeans and presses in close. "I don't break my toys," he murmurs, sliding his hands around Ian, down his hips to his thighs, fingers spanning teasingly close to his cock. "Where's the fun in that?"

Despite his lingering fear of Antony, Ian leans into him like he's been starved of contact. He's shivering now, a come down from the endorphins that are no longer flooding his system. "T...touch me...please...please Sir..." he murmurs desperately. The use of 'Sir' is utterly unconscious and if he had been aware of it, Ian would Freak.The.Fuck.Out.

"What? Like this?" Antony wraps his hand around Ian's cock, stroking slowly from root to tip.

Jerkily Ian shakes his head. "Skin...on skin..." he adds, even as his cock kicks up in Antony's hand. 

Antony steps back, dropping down to get his boots off, his jeans down and quickly joining them. Naked, he presses close again, arms wrapped around Ian, kissing the side of his throat, his cock, hard and aching, wedged between his cheeks. "Better? Or do you need to touch me too?"

Ian hums out his need. "S'better...s'fine..." he whispers, "Thank you..." the feel of Antony's skin grounds Ian, pulls him back to himself enough that he can get his shit together. He tips his head allowing Antony more room at his throat. 

Thrusting between Ian's cheeks, Antony softly bites at his throat, careful not to leave any lasting marks, his hands roaming over the other man, touching him everywhere he reach, his cock getting a stroke here and there.

"Thank you...Antony..." Ian pushes out Antony's name to let the other man know he's back with it. The closeness, the slide of warm male skin against his own is of course delicious, and with the help of the drugs still swimming in his blood Ian is soon soothed into a much more relaxed space.

"You want more or you want me to fuck you?" Antony whispers. They had plans but plans are made to be changed and with the drugs coursing through Ian's veins and the way he obviously scared the hell of him, he wants to be sure before he continues.

Turning his head Ian manages a light brush of his own mouth against Antony's jaw. "We can play some more..." he offers. "You can play some more..."

Antony turns his head, licking into Ian's mouth, tasting the other man, a soft groan rumbling from him. "Let's keep it easy then," he says, reaching down for his jeans and pulling his belt free from its loops. "I'll keep the bat and the chain on hand for next time," he promises.

"S'your call..." Ian takes a deep breath when Antony releases him, he's on firmer ground now, having managed to navigate the fear Antony instilled in him earlier and the endorphin dump from the fisting. "You're the boss..."

Antony doubles the leather, buckle against his palm, and starts from the ground up this time. Calves, thighs, ass. Slowly working his way up. Nice easy blows, designed to be layered.

Pain. This kind of pain is an old friend to Ian. He's been on the receiving end of Antony's belt before, and it put him exactly where he needed to be. So just a few blows in, Ian relaxes into it, giving himself over to the other man, and letting his brain shut down. Eyes closed Ian gifts Antony each of his pain noises, each hiss, groan and whimper.

Laying into Ian's shoulders and back, Antony feels his own ribs start to ache, the injuries received during this last job not completely healed. But he doesn't stop. Doesn't falter at all. He hisses in a breath, gritting his teeth against the pain as it intensifies, and puts everything into the blows he's delivering.

The pain comes in waves, each blow adding a little more. Soon enough Ian's legs start to give and he drops his weight onto the tape around his wrists, before pulling himself back up. His skin is burning, tight with the way it's swelling into bruises and his breath is hard, harsh, stuttered in his lungs. When finally he drops again, he doesn't try to find his feet, he simply hangs there, his body slack, sweat slicked and beaten, head bowed.

Antony silently counts down another dozen blows before he lets the belt drop. He plucks a condom from his jeans, rolls it over his cock, and moves into place, one arm around Ian hiking him up as he uses his free hand to put cock to hole, pushing in with low groan, Ian's body having tightened back up with the beating.

This time Ian barely registers the penetration, he's wasted on the tail end of his GHB kick and the wonderful, pain induced endorphins. It takes him a moment to catch up, and then he lolls his head around to slur out "Fuck hole," before he tries to lick at a bead of sweat on Antony's face. 

"That's right," Antony breathes, smiling at Ian's tongue on his skin. "You're my fuckhole... fuck..." His hips constantly moving, thrusting in hard and then harder as he finds his rhythm, his pleasure building, his cock surrounded by that incredible heat.

Grunting Ian doesn't reply, he simply chases after the salt on Antony's face, along his jaw. Jerking with each thrust, his own cock is only semi hard, his body more focused on being used than being aroused. Once more Antony has, artfully, pushed Ian to the edge of what he knows he can take, and it's perfect.

Riding that wave, Antony holds out as long as he can, Ian's tongue on his skin, his cock sheathed in that heat. Fucks into the man beneath him again and again until coming's no longer an option but an imperative, his teeth gritted against crying out as his hips stutter and his cock pulses hotly, spurting over and over.

He's aware of Antony reaching orgasm, he can't not be, but with his hands tied, and the rest of his body off line there's no way for Ian to respond, other than a twisted smile and a slurred..."Fuck..."

"Fuck is right," Antony says with a soft laugh when he can manage, rocking his hips a few more times just to savour how fucking good it feels before slowly easing out. He wraps his arm around Ian's waist again, holding him up as he unhooks his hands and helps him to the floor.

Out of all the pain Ian's in, and there's plenty between his asshole and his back, the pain from his shoulders as he lowers his arms is what steals his breath, has him reeling for a moment as the muscles and joints complain. "FUCK!" he hisses out. "FUCK!" He drops down to sit, his clothes rags around him, beaten and fucked, worn out and wasted.

"Give me a second and I'll get you some water," Antony says, reaching for his knife and cutting the tape from Ian's wrists.

The sight of the knife makes Ian recoil for a moment, an echo of his fear from earlier. But once his hands are free he busies himself with rubbing his wrists and rotating his shoulders to free them back up again. "Thanks, and a blanket?" 

Antony nods. He sets the knife aside, grabs Ian's bag, some water and a couple blankets and moves everything closer. He hands over an opened bottle of water and wraps a blanket around Ian's shoulders, another laid over his legs. Shifts one of the huge block mats behind Ian so he can lean against it. "How's that?"

"Great," Ian nods before raising the water to his mouth, he has to use two hands, as he's still shaking, but he manages without too much problem to not spill much. When the water's gone he discards the bottle, and tugs the blanket around himself, turns his attention on Antony. "I'm sorry I didn't take more..." he offers.

Antony gives Ian a look at that. "I'm sure as hell not complaining," he says. "And all this stuff," he waves at the ring then shrugs. "It can wait til next time. Or the time after. Whatever."

"You want to keep seeing me?" It's a silly question, but hell, Ian's more than a little off center right now, and he can't help thinking about Joe...who he knows doesn't want him doing this at all...

Antony winces as he finally sits down across from Ian, his knees bent, forearms resting on them. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I?"

Ian shrugs, and then groans from the movement. "I forgot, we've not actually spent all that much time talking have we? I can be...difficult," Ian's mouth twists in deprecating smile. "A bitch with bite," he rubs his face, then up nods at Antony. "Should I be admiring pretty marks, or commiserating on a beating?"

Antony laughs. "You can admire them if you want. They are rather pretty," he says with a grin. "But they're just from work. We were moving some shit and this thing," fucking huge safe, "fell on me, cracked a couple ribs."

"Ahh, man, that sucks huh? Ian shakes his head. "You okay though? That must've hurt while we were laying into me." His forehead creases in concern.

"Yeah, it did. It happened a few days ago but they're still healing and I haven't been babying them any," Antony says. "I'm used to working through pain though, and at least I was enjoying this," he adds with another grin. "You said you met someone. Are they why you needed this tonight?"

Ian recoils at the bluntness of that question, then he blinks. Licking over his lips he considers his response. "There are two men in my life; one's dead, the other is very much alive, my head gets messed up with that." He shrugs, "This," he tilts his head to look around the gym, "Gives me down time."

Antony nods. "I'm glad I can help," he says. "I tend to play around a lot but most of the people I play with can't take this, and I wouldn't want it all the time but yeah, I like scratching this itch. And particularly with you." Hoping the last won't scare Ian away.

Tightening the blanket some more Ian contemplates Antony for a moment. "Particularly with me? Why? Because I'm pretty, or because I'm such delightful company?" The self mockery's back.

Antony laughs. "Both." He shrugs again, cracking open another bottle of water and offering it to Ian. "But mostly it just feels like we've clicked. Playing like this, I run into the assholes who don't know what they're doing or actually want me to kill them way too often. You don't fit into either of those groups."

"That's because I've learned some painful lessons in this game, when you want to play this hard as a bottom, you attract the freaks and psychos. I've had some problems, some close shaves, sometimes, before I met Joe I think I wanted them to go too far," Ian picks at the plastic ring around the neck of the bottle. "Now though," he looks up. "It seems you know how to make me dance at the edge and not push me over..." 

Antony nods. "Does Joe know you do this?" he asks, assuming it's something Ian can't get from Joe or he would be.

Ian nods, "Yeah, he saw me about four days after we last got together, he was all newbie freaked out at the bruising," he pauses to take a drink of water. "He knows I do it, I don't think he gets it though, but it’s not something I’m going to be giving up."

"If you don't need it, it's hard to get it," Antony says, meaning Joe. "But yeah, it's better if he knows from the beginning that it's not something you can give up." He smiles and drains the last of his water. "You ready to move to my place?"

Ian pulls a face at that. "I was kinda hoping you'd let me off on that," he admits, rolling over onto his knees to push himself up with a groan. 

"Not a chance," Antony says with a chuckle. "Buck up though. It's only one night. You want some help with your clothes?"

"Hmm," Ian hums out a noise that shows he's not impressed, "Until recent weeks I never slept with anyone. Ever. Hard rule," he announces, shaking off the blankets and trying to assess the best way to remove what's left of his jeans and tee. He's wobbly, for sure, and his hands shake, but Ian manages to pull off the shreds before removing clean sweats from his bag.

"I already told you, I'll sleep in a chair if you want," Antony says, helping Ian pack up his things before tugging his clothes and boots back on.

"Same room, same thing," Ian straightens up. "It's a personal space ‘being asleep’ thing, doesn't matter anyway, like I said, recent weeks have started to resolve that particular issue."

"Glad to hear it," Antony murmurs, turning off lights and locking up. He leads the way out to his car, watching Ian closely to make sure he doesn't need any help. Doesn't bother telling him he's the only person Antony's ever brought home in L.A. But that has less to do with intimacy than security. Besides, he has Citadel.

Once he's settled in the passenger seat Ian digs in his bag - stashed on his lap - and pulls out a bottle of pills. He waves them at Antony when he sees the questioning look. "Painkillers, garden variety, nothing I can't buy over the counter," he assures the other man before knocking two back.

Antony chuckles. "I wasn't going to say anything." Not when he knows he can keep an eye on Ian for the rest of the night.

"Huh if I'd known I wasn't about to get the side eye again I'd have gone for something stronger," Ian shoves the bottle back in his bag. "I'm going to need to use your shower as soon as I can, otherwise I'll be soiling just about anything I get near," Ian warns in a less than delicate fashion. "I feel like I'll be shitting lube for days."

"That's fine. There's a huge soaker jacuzzi tub too," Antony says, speeding through several green lights plus a stale yellow before he finally has to stop at a red. "And I can make you something to eat if you want, or order in. I have to call down for your soy milk anyway."

"I was teasin' about the milk, though I am vegetarian - I do have vegan kicks - but I'm not on one now," Ian reaches out to playfully poke Antony in his ribs. "Food would be good, and tea...do you have tea?"

"I definitely have tea," Antony says, squirming just a little at the poking. "And I make a mean grilled cheese or a masala tofu scramble on toast. Either appeal?" he asks, turning the corner and pushing the button on the clicker overhead for the underground parking garage. "This is me."

An apartment block, a large apartment block...not what Ian was expecting, but on reflection he's not sure what he would have expected. "Niiiice," Ian coos, impressed.

"It's home," Antony says, sliding into a parking space at the far end of the first floor. "Takes care of itself when I'm gone." He slips out of the car and waits for Ian to grab his stuff, a thumb pressed against the reader which activates the lift in front of the car. His own private lift. Leading directly to his penthouse.

The lift moves smoothly upward...and keeps on going. Ian watches the numbers roll over on the display. "Penthouse?" he turns raised brows on Antony. 

Antony grins. "I hate having neighbours overhead," he says, holding the door open as the lift comes to a stop. Outside there's a small round foyer, with an ornate carved wood table in the centre and a large door beyond that.

"Okay, what exactly _is_ it that you do?" Ian's impressed, he knows expensive when he sees it, that was Kyan's thing after all, his lover had been a man of taste, and money. Ian runs his fingers over the beautiful table. 

"I run my own international security firm," Antony says, unlocking the front door. "We do personal security, corporate... internet and computers, risk management..." he grins at Ian over his shoulder, turning on the lights. "I have my finger in all the pies."

Ian shuffles in behind Antony, for a moment his pain and discomfort forgotten as he takes in the rather stunning apartment laid out before him. Beyond the living area huge windows afford a breathtaking view over the city skyline. "Wow." 

"Yeah." Antony nods. "The view's the biggest reason I bought this place," he says, setting his keys and wallet in a dish on the hall table. "Come on. I'll show you the bathroom and grab you some towels. You can put your things in the bedroom." Leading the way down the hall and to the right. "Ensuite's in there. Shower. Tub." He opens the linen closet and pulls out a set of dark grey towels. "Closet's there. You want to borrow some sweats or pajama bottoms?"

Trailing after Antony Ian is a little bemused, his brain is taking some time to process, drugs and pain will do that to even the smartest guy after all... "Um...a soak would be great...and...pajamas I guess..." He frowns as he works through that. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Antony smiles. "Bed's there. You can put your stuff anywhere. I'll be in the kitchen. When you're ready, come on out and I'll make you something to eat."

Ian takes a moment to get his bearings. He puts his bag down and hunts through it for the pill bottle, he knocks back a couple more before he makes his way to the ensuite. It takes only a moment to decide the tub will take too long to fill, and his skin is sticky and dirty right _now_. So Ian fires up the shower and turns it on as hot as he can deal with, before standing under the stream of water, eyes closed. He stays like that for several minutes before he starts to clean himself. When he's done, draped in towels Ian pads back into the bedroom, and he wanders around, checking out the books on the built in bookcases, as he towel dries his hair. 

Antony puts a few dishes away while he waits for Ian. Hides some blueprints in a drawer along with some notes he made for the next job. Goes through his mail from this last trip and tosses the junk in the recycling bin. It should feel weirder than it does to have Ian here, he thinks, checking on ingredients. Should feel... intrusive, or something, but it doesn't. And he's not really sure what that means.

When he's dry, Ian pulls on the pj bottoms Antony so thoughtfully left out and then makes his way out to the living area, and onto the kitchen. "That's some eclectic book collection you've got in there," he says, finger combing his now damp hair, eyes on Antony.

"Yeah, they're all favourites," Antony says with a nod, definitely noticing how good Ian looks in his pajamas. Damn. "From different points in my life. You like to read?"

"My partner did...he was a voracious reader, he nudged me toward books he thought I'd enjoy and I got into the habit," Ian's surprised to be sharing something about Kyan. "Now?...I find guys who are well read rather sexy," he admits with a flirty grin, much more the usual face Ian presents to his fucks.

Antony laughs. "Good to know. I spent most of school being called names for it," he says, unable to stop smiling. "So... masala tofu scramble on toast or grilled cheese?"

"Grilled cheese." Ian's in the mood for something a little comfort foody. "Can I have some water to drink?" he asks, perching his butt on the edge of a stool. "I'm really dry."

"Yeah, of course," Antony says, reaching into the fridge for a pitcher and pouring Ian a tall glass. "You want milk with your grilled cheese? It's not soy but I have white or chocolate."

"No, thank you, you mentioned tea?" Ian drains half the glass in one go and licks the water beads from his upper lip. "Do all your fucks get this kind of aftercare? Or just the ones who drop drugs you don't like?" Ian queries over the top of his glass.

"Tea. Right." Now Antony remembers. He puts it out. Puts the kettle on. "None of my fucks get _this_ kind of aftercare," he says, slicing cheese from a block of old cheddar. "I don't usually bring people back here. But I spend the night with some of them. At their place or at a hotel." Grabbing a couple slices of fresh light rye, the bottom of one buttered before it's dropped in a lightly oiled pan, topped with the cheese, the other slice laid on top and buttered as well. "And before you ask, I don't know why I brought you home. Probably because I knew you wouldn't let me come to yours."

"You're right there," Ian agrees. "No one comes to my home, not even Joe. Until very recently I hadn't even slept with someone in three years..." he shrugs, and regrets it. "I must be a special snowflake huh?"

Antony laughs. "Definitely. Special-ist of special snowflakes," he agrees, flipping the sandwich and pressing it down with the lifter. "You want some chips with this?"

"No, thank you," Ian shakes his head, watching as Antony works. "I don't get how someone as hot as you, someone who is clearly smart as fuck, wealthy, well traveled, hung like a horse, doesn't have some serious piece of pretty to call his own, a boyfriend, lover, partner..." Ian muses out loud. "You must have some giant flaw I can't see."

The sandwich golden brown on both sides, Antony slides it out of the pan, cuts it in half and sets the plate down in front of Ian, turning to finish making his tea. "I just haven't met the right person," Antony says with a shrug of his own. It's the truth but only a partial one and so far down on the list... but telling Ian the real reason? Not an option. "Sugar? Cream?"

"No...just as it is, thank you," Ian's forehead is creased as he contemplates Antony's reply...and his own feelings about that. "I wish I'd met you differently, I think I would have liked to get to know you better from a different angle," he offers, before dropping his gaze to the food. "Thanks for this," he murmurs before picking up one half of the sandwich.

"My pleasure. I can't remember the last time I got to cook for someone. Not that a grilled cheese is really cooking," Antony says, laughing softly as he sets Ian's tea in front of him. Sobering before he says, quietly, "Can I ask what happened to your partner?"

Ian pauses, finishes chewing and swallows, reaches for the tea, his eyes firmly on the cup. "Cancer," he says softly. "Cancer happened," he dips his head for a moment, then takes a deep breath before sipping the tea.

Shit. "I'm sorry," Antony says. "How long were you together?"

"Four years, nearly," Ian puts the tea down, picks at the sandwich. "He was the center of my world." He pops a broken off piece of bread into his mouth. "Still is in a lot of ways."

"I can imagine," Antony murmurs. "They always say there are these stages of grief you're supposed to go through, like there's some sort of timetable for mourning, but I don't think that's true. Especially when you're that close to someone."

"I don't think anyone can understand unless they've lived it." Ian sips his tea. "Joe gets it, I think that's why I let him get close to me, after three years of being an utter cunt to everyone I had sex with." 

"He lost someone too?" Antony asks, moving to the fridge to pour himself a glass of water, his attention still on Ian the whole time.

"His brother, a couple of years ago, it was sudden, they were very close," Ian picks up the sandwich again. "His way of dealing with his loss has been very different to mine, he seems to have found some peace with it," Ian takes a bite, making sure he can't keep rambling out personal shit, at least for the moment.

"I think there are a lot of variables for how you deal with losing someone," Antony says slowly, weighing the cost of sharing something truly personal about himself. "It's not the same as what either of you has gone through but when I was in grammar school, my best friend died of a brain aneurysm. We'd been friends since the first day of year one and it felt like my whole world had ended. I was so angry at God, the universe, everyone..."

"Yes!" Ian looks up, and nods. "That's me, anger. I'm angry at everything, but most of all I'm angry at Kyan for leaving me, the rage used to choke me...and then the guilt would follow, the guilt at _being_ angry at someone I loved so hard, and guilt that I get to live and he didn't..." Ian trails off. "It's just fucking shit." His shoulders slump again and he busies himself with his tea instead.

"Yeah, it is," Antony agrees. "But it sounds like things are starting to get better?"

"Better?" Ian has to consider that, he's been on such a emotional roller coaster he hasn't had time to weigh things up properly. "I don't know, different, things are very different, things are shaken up..." He looks up at Antony. "I still need this, to deal, so I don't know."

"Change doesn't happen without things getting shaken up," Antony says. "Nor does it happen all at once. The fact you've met someone though? That you weren't doing this with some thug you met on the street..." His eyes crinkling, dancing with amusement as his own words sink in. "Well, not some complete stranger anyway."

Ian has to smile at that. "Progress I guess, having two men I see to get my needs met rather than more than I can count. Gonna lose my whore's badge if I keep this up," he adds with not a little self mockery.

"I'll make you a t-shirt," Antony promises, grinning. "Commemorate the good old days." He nods at Ian's plate. "You want anything else?"

"No, I'm done, thank you," Ian returns Antony's smile. "Can I ask...if you want to keep seeing me...are we going to get to know each other better? Or do you want to keep it at this level? Seen as I'm learning to be all grown up about this shit again, thought I should check," He lifts a brow in query as he finishes his tea.

"I don't know," Antony answers honestly, moving the plate and cup to the dishwasher. "If you get to know me better, will it stop you from coming to me when you need the shit beat out of you?"

"No, not if you keep beating me like you do. Will you start easing up on me if you get to know me?" It's a fair question. Ian props his elbow on the counter, his chin in his palm. "Or will it help you give me more?"

"I definitely wouldn't ease up," Antony says. It's not in his nature to do so. "And it might help me give you more. We'd have to see." He grins. "So, is that a yes to getting to know each other better?"

"I think so, yeah," Ian grins. "I admit, I'm all shades of intrigued by you now...this," he waves a hand around the apartment, "is not what I expected, this is the sort of thing my partner would have liked, he was very wealthy, he liked beautiful things too. I had you more of a loft person...less...luxury, more practical." 

"I am, mostly, except for here," Antony says, looking around. "This is my... I don't want to say refuge, because that sounds like I'm hiding from something, but it's my _space_. It's where I reset. And having all the stuff from my travels, having everything clean and crisp and... in its place. It all helps with that."

"Then I'm honored you brought me back here," Ian replies, watching Antony as he looks around his home. There's something more to this man, Ian's someone who's lived the last three years presenting a different face to the world than the one he wears in private, and he's can sense there is more to Antony than meets the eye. A lot more. 

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," Antony says softly. "You tired?"

"Not hugely, this stuff can keep me up...but I could try and sleep." It's not lost on Ian that Antony could've taken him to a hotel for the night, looked over him there, rather than bring him home to what is clearly treasured space. Something to think on when he's sober.

"Okay. If you can't sleep, there's books or there's a TV in the second bedroom. I don't watch anything other than news but all the specialty channels are on there." Antony smiles. He's still exhausted from his trip and it won't take much for him to pass right out. "I'm gonna grab a quick shower, throw some pajamas on and I'll grab a blanket for the chair."

"If you want to sleep with me...I'm okay with that." Ian offers. "You don't need to sleep in a chair," 

Antony almost asks if Ian's sure but he trusts the other man to know his own mind, especially given how reluctant he was to come back with him in the first place. So instead he just nods. "Yeah, that would be great. I didn't get much sleep earlier today." He runs a hand over the back of his head, taking another look around, pretty certain he's put everything away that he needs to. "You can go ahead or look around. I won't be long."

Sliding off the stool Ian makes himself another glass of water before he wanders around, finally stopping in front of a book case. He scans the spines, looking for something that might appeal, having said that his mind is jumping around, and he probably won't settle enough to read.

Antony tosses his clothes in the hamper and grabs a pair of black pajama pants from the closet. He runs the shower as hot as it'll go, quickly scrubbing his entire body before rinsing off. Getting out, he towels off, brushes his teeth and tugs the pants on, tying the drawstring loosely around his hips. He's a little concerned Ian might get into something he shouldn't but then again, if he doesn't think he can trust him not to snoop, he shouldn't be here at all.

When Antony reappears, it's to find Ian mid pose. He'd decided a few stretches would help him sleep and help his bruised and battered body from seizing up. He doesn't say anything, simply moves through the poses until he's done, before standing and giving his shoulders a slow roll. 

"How long have you been doing yoga?" Antony asks, pulling the covers back on the bed.

"My late teens, I modeled from the age of ten, and by the time I was 18 I was pretty clear on the fact that I hate gym work. So I had to find something that helped me stay in shape and that suited by body type. Once I started I enjoyed it, now I practice daily, sometimes I'll go on weekend retreats," Ian rambles away as he climbs up on the bed. "It has extra benefits, I'm extremely supple..." he smirks suggestively.

Antony grins, feet under the covers, head propped on his pillow. "I don't think I've seen that side of you yet."

"What bendy Ian?" Ian settles on his side, out of deference to the welts and bruises all over his back, butt and legs. "Or non scene fuck Ian?"

"I was thinking bendy Ian, but both actually," Antony says, well aware that they've already come a long way from him sleeping in a chair beside the bed.

"We can fuck," Ian offers easily enough, "So long as you're cool with me being on top, otherwise I'm going to be all kinds of distracted by my back." His mouth curves up in a slow smile. "Do I get to cum this time?" His brow quirked in question.

"I am _totally_ cool with you being on top," Antony says with a smile, settling back, eyes dancing. "There's lube and condoms in the drawer, and yes, you get to come this time." He would have let Ian come last time but it didn't exactly seem a priority. For either of them.

"Well thank fuck for that," Ian winks. He retrieves said condom and lube from the bedside, amused to note Antony prefers the same brand - clearly it's a big dick thing. Ian tugs back the bedding to quirk a disgruntled brow at the pj bottoms covering Antony. "C'mon man, help a guy out..."

Antony laughs, lifting his hips so he shove the pajamas down and off, kicking them free from his feet. "Better?"

"Oooh, yeah..." Ian's eyes are firmly fixed on Antony's dick. It's the first time he's had any opportunity to admire, and touch without Antony being in his top space, consequently Ian's Size Queen kicks in. "Well fuck, it's just even more pretty up close," he purrs, running fingertips over the length of it.

"Thanks. You're not too bad yourself," Antony teases, running a hand over Ian's cock through the cotton of his pajama pants.

"Not too bad?" Ian snorts, rolling carefully onto his butt he shuffles his way out of the pj's he's wearing, his cock slowly thickening. "My cock is fucking epic...and yours...yours is just as good..." Ian nods sagely. "Joe calls it the Monster," he adds with a grin.

"You've been terrorizing him with it, have you?" Antony says, grinning back, watching Ian get naked again.

"Terrorizing? Hell no, he fucking loves it, I made me a Size Queen all of my own," Ian's tipping lube in his hand, which he then wraps around Antony's cock. "Fucking perfect..." he croons softly.

Antony groans, head going back, anything he might have said lost for a moment in the pleasure of Ian's hand. "Guys seems to handle it better," he muses finally. "No cervix to bruise."

"EW! Just....EW!" Ian pauses in his stroking, he pokes at Antony's non bruised side with his fingers. "We do not talk about girl cunt in bed, it'll make me heave."

Antony laughs. "You're one of those, are you?" he teases, smiling, his eyes dancing.

"One of what? Tits I can cope with, the rest..." Ian mock shudders. "Why would you want to fuck that? Men are just..." At this points Ian growls and starts stroking again, sliding down to press kisses to Antony's belly as he touches him.

Antony laughs again but it's swallowed into another groan, his cock throbbing in Ian's grip. "I'm an equal opportunity fucker," he jokes, watching Ian's mouth over his skin, muscles jumping beneath.

"Well, I'm not," Ian nips at the skin over Antony's hip. "Hot men, pretty boys...Hmmm," he hums his appreciation before straightening and grabbing the condom. "I'm very, very choosy."

"Are you?" Antony grins. "What made you choose me that night at Coogan's?"

"You bought me a drink, that you earned you a look over, at which point your eyes and your cock sealed the deal," Ian shrugs, with a twisted smile, he rolls the rubber on Antony with minimal effort. "You're not pretty, but you're certainly hot," he adds with a tease as he slides one knee over Antony's hips.

"And you're fucking gorgeous," Antony murmurs, sliding his hands along Ian's thighs.

Another glob of lube, this time Ian applies it to his ass, still supple enough from the fisting earlier he spends little time on prep. "Yeah I am," he grins down at Antony, before guiding the other man's dick to his ass. "Aren't you the lucky one?"

"Definitely," Antony responds, dropping the teasing for a moment as Ian starts to take him in.

Any response Ian might've made is lost when Antony's cock starts to breach his hole, the penetration becoming his sole focus. "Fuck yes..." he hisses, sliding down, taking it all.

Antony groans, the heat of Ian's body, wrapped around his cock, his whole cock, making his head spin. "Christ..." he murmurs, nails lightly digging into Ian's thighs.

"Ian..." Ian retorts with a slightly strained chuckle, "Easy mistake," he leans in as he bottoms out, bracing himself on Antony's chest, careful to place his hands around the bruising that colors his skin so prettily. "Oh hell yes, fucking love big cock...nothing like it," he breathes, eyes glittering with lust and amusement.

"You take it so well," Antony says, the words ending on another groan, his cock throbbing deep inside Ian's tight heat.

"One thing I'm fucking awesome at, is sex," Ian flexes his hips and starts to move, all the years of yoga giving him an edge, a control over his body that many don't have. 

"And you're so modest too," Antony teases, rocking his hips a little to meet those movements. "You want my hand?"

"Am I being immodest if it's true?" Ian tips his head in query giving Antony's dick a squeeze with his internal muscles. "And yes, please..." he licks over his bottom lip.

Cursing roughly under his breath, Antony wraps his hand around Ian's cock and strokes, thumb rubbing over the head, smearing precome around the crown. "I'm just teasing," he says, gets out really, given how completely Ian's scrambling his brain.

"'M always being teased," Ian grits out, Antony's touch is firm and sure on his dick, the thick column of flesh kicking up in his hand. "Hmm," he hums out a noise of pure pleasure. "S'good, we should do _this_ more often..." he murmurs.

"Like I'd say no to that," Antony groans, his cock throbbing violently, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter. His strokes tightening, speeding up.

Ian speeds up, working himself harder on Antony's dick, angling his hips so each downward thrust has the full length of that glorious cock running right over his prostate. The room is full of the sound of two men fucking, gasping, swearing, the slap of skin on skin. 

Antony holds out as long as he can but he's fighting a losing battle with the way Ian moves on, around him, fuck. "Close," he grits out, working Ian's cock without mercy.

Ian wants to come first, he knows how good it is to have a man convulsing in orgasm around your dick and he wants to give that to Antony. He lets himself go, coming hard, semen spraying over Antony's fingers and belly. His head falls forward and he unknowingly gives Antony his unguarded face.

Fucking beautiful, Antony thinks before coming so fucking hard every bone in his body aches with it, his cock pulsing thick and hot.

When they're both done, Ian slumps forward, Antony's built enough to cope with Ian draping himself for a while he figures. Eye's closed, cheek pressed to the curve of Antony's shoulder Ian's breath gusts out over sweaty skin. "That's it, I'm done," he murmurs.

"That makes two of us," Antony murmurs, trailing his fingers lightly over Ian's back, the weight of the other man real, solid. Here. He smiles. "Think you can sleep now?"

"Huh, huh," Ian gives a half nod. "I don't wanna move."

That sounds good to Antony, but, "What about the condom?"

"Meh," Ian grumps, but he half pushes up. "Can I sprawl again when it's gone?" he yawns, tilting his hips up so Antony's dick slips free.

"Yeah, definitely," Antony answers, making quick work of getting rid of it, the remains knotted and tossed in the bin beside the bed. Pulling Ian in close again.

"Blame Joe...his fault I can do this again," Ian slurs already half asleep, tucking his head up under Antony's chin. 

Blame Joe? Antony'll fucking shake his hand if he ever meets him, he thinks, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Ian's head.

"Sleep now," Ian murmurs, his body going limp as he slides off into an exhausted slumber.

Antony smiles at that and closes his eyes, one hand on Ian's back, holding him close.


End file.
